


we can do whatever, do whatever you want

by borisrings



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-07-05 14:49:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15865824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/borisrings/pseuds/borisrings
Summary: Eddie had never been able to put a word on his feelings towards Richie. Who was Richie? His best friend, of course, he was. It was just a mix of meaning that made Eddie somehow happier or more comfortable. It's always been easier with Richie, always bigger and stronger, always sweeter and bitter, like the coffee in the cafe where Richie took Eddie sometimes. He was right there, to repeat to him in the hollow of his ear, 'you can do what you want, you’re able to' when Eddie cried in his arms when his mother closed her claws on him. But he could also make him laugh, exasperate him, sometimes make him angry, but as soon as they met again, it was bigger and bigger, louder and softer, and more in addition to bitter.inspired by seventeen by troye sivan.





	we can do whatever, do whatever you want

**Author's Note:**

> this is the english version! i want to thank ro, who did an amazing translation work. thank you baby. i dedicate this to ro, mathi erin natalie sami and maud. i love you all.

17 years, it’s the golden age.

 

We feel free, a little wilder, sometimes. It is also the age of first times; first glasses of alcohol, first parties, first getaways, first feelings.

 

When Richie Tozier was 17, the second-oldest in the band of losers after Beverly Marsh, it was like he had woken up from a dull, colourless life. Now when you looked at the boy, you could see bright colours, you could smell the strong and fresh scent of strawberry that cleared the nose. You perceived freedom, perseverance, and in his black eyes and the corners of his smile, reigned a slight pinch of daring that Eddie Kaspbrak could never understand. 

 

Eddie Kaspbrak was going to be 17 years old tonight. At midnight. The last of the group to be 17 years old.

 

He had been waiting for a year for this step to be over. Like a caterpillar waiting to spread its wings as a butterfly. If Eddie was a butterfly, he knew he would be a tiny species, he would have brown wings, like his hair and almond eyes, and no colour. But he knows Richie, and he would be a Chrysiridia. This butterfly’s unpronounceable name, like Richie, could not be described. It was like a ball full of noisy but soothing sounds, emotional, loyal and mischievous. The butterfly also has the brightest colours. It could be recognized in a green field as easily as Eddie could spot one of Richie's t-shirts in the hallways of their high school. But his colours were something reassuring, and they were also extremely beautiful. On his colourful wings, there was still black that is scattered like the task of painting. Richie also had its darkness, not to mention his abundant raven curls or his dominant-looking glasses.

 

But the characteristic that transcended the most was that this butterfly is rare. And Eddie knew that very few people were lucky enough to have a Richie in their life.

 

The Losers insisted that Eddie have a birthday party. To tell the truth, Eddie did not care. He just wanted his best friend there.

Bill Denbrough's home was the first choice of place. It was quite unthinkable to go to the Kaspbrak’s home for the party.

 

The garden had been decorated with lanterns by Beverly and Ben, and the music had been chosen by Bill and Stan. Mike had managed with Eddie the few guests that he had wanted to spend the evening with, and Richie... Had been Richie.

The boy bought a glittering banner, which was printed: 'HAPPY ANNIVERSARY EDS', which he had ordered two months ago.

"You really have no idea as to how long I've waited to get it out," he shouted at Eddie and the Losers burst out laughing.

"I'm surprised you didn’t make a mistake," sarcastically and gently, Stan said, lighting the lanterns.

Eddie was sitting on the ground on the lawn, fiddling with a straw that had fallen from Mike's pack. The stress began to gnaw at his stomach, and the thought of having one more birthday, and being seventeen, made him nervous every passing second.

“Oh, come on, Stanny. I bet I'm stronger than you in spelling. But, I don’t blame you for being jealous," Richie said, putting his arm on Stan's shoulder, giving him a kiss.

The boy then shoved his friend, who was grumbling, and sat down next to Eddie, while the Losers poured potato chips into bowls to be as full as Eddie's chest was now.

“Hiya Eds!” Richie said softly, tapping the brown-haired man's shoulder with his.

“Hello.”

“Hey, This is your moment, Spaghetti! Don’t be so nervous, okay? It's your birthday, your birthday!”

“Do not call me that!”

The brown-haired man felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as Richie ran his tongue over his cracked lips, laughing, and he instinctively lowered his eyes.

 

Eddie had never been able to put a word on his feelings towards Richie. Who was Richie? His best friend, of course, he was. It was just a mix of meaning that made Eddie somehow happier or more comfortable. It's always been easier with Richie, always bigger and stronger, always sweeter and bitter, like the cafe where the Richie took Eddie. He was right there, to repeat to him in the hollow of his ear, 'you can do what you want, you’re able to' when Eddie cried in his arms when his mother closed her claws on him. But he could also make him laugh, exasperate him, sometimes make him angry, but as soon as they met again, it was bigger and bigger, louder and softer, and more in addition to bitter.

 

When the guests arrived, just a dozen or so, Eddie was starting to regret inviting them. It was, of course, polite, nice and endearing people, but it was the kind of people Eddie just said a little 'hello, what's the math homework?' or a small nod when he saw them in the pharmacy.

Richie was talking to people about his sociology class, Beverly and Ben were dancing at a slow pace that Stan was throwing out of the far too big speaker, catching three-quarters of the people off guard, and Mike and Bill were holding their beer, cooking chips on the barbecue.

 

It was almost 11:30 pm and drinks were circulating, which made Eddie dizzy.

Eddie also had his own beer in hand while sitting on a lawn chair. He was staring at it, getting lost in the bubbles dancing in the glass bottle. The cold of the glass burned his skin, but he was content to draw with his finger little pictures or words on the bottle, sometimes leaving an 'R'; it was erased sharply when he felt like a look was placed on him.

“You know, Eds, the goal is to drink it…” Eddie looked up sharply, to see Richie, a mocking smile on his face. Eddie smiled, without even thinking about it.

“Hello.”

“Hey.” Richie knelt down and rested his chin on Eddie's knee, which felt stiff under the touch. The brown-haired boycleared his throat, and rubbed his nose, and fought not to blush.

“So... ?”

“So what?”

“You count kissing the bottle at midnight or?”

“We do that at the New Year, silly.”

“Yes, that's why I'm worried.” 

Richie laughs softly, straightening his glasses, a gesture that had itched Eddie since the beginning of their conversation.

The brunette smiled softly and put his beer on the floor. "I do not want to drink it," said the brunette, shrugging his shoulders.

"Then do not drink it, Eds, my companion! We are in a free fucking country! You can do what you want! I can do what I want! If I want to shout that you’re the love of my life then I can!”

“Yeah you could, but don’t do that” Eddie laughed.

“I can do what I want! Look!” Richie grabbed a chair, and climbed on it, waving his arms. 

“Look at them! Yes, my Eddie Spaghetti! It's the love of my life! Love of my life!”

Everyone looked at Richie laughing, Stan ran his hand over his face, Mike clapped his hands, and Bev smiled softly at Eddie, who was trying to hide his blush by pretending to get upset.

"Come on, follow me," said Richie, jumping out of his chair, while the laughter still echoed in the Denbrough Garden.  
  


“What?”

"Edward, my love, I'm asking you to follow me," Richie said, taking Eddie's hand.

 

The brunette's hand felt warm, a warmth which spread through his chest. It was always like that with Richie. A kind of inflammation emerged at each contact between the two boys and caused a reaction in Eddie, such as difficulty breathing. Because it was like a wave of too many emotions, a wave of indescribable feelings, which stifled it. When Richie rubbed his fingers against Eddie's, it was like waiting for the plane to take off to feel a moment of weightlessness, which causes his heartbeat, when he wrapped his hand around his, to be like diving into a hot spring that brings us back to life, or a dive from a cliff; there is a moment, only a few seconds, where one feels invincible, free. All that was from Richie.

  
  


He smiled softly as Richie came out of the pavilion. “Where are we going?”

“We’re just walking Eds! Just you and me.”

 

_ Just you and me. _

 

The 'just you and me' moments were Eddie's favourites. Because everything was simpler, lighter. When Richie left him, that feeling flew away, and his heart squeezed more and more on his way home.

That doesn’t tell me where we’re going, Richie…”

“We’re going to the quarry?”

“But... the others…”

Richie shook his head and laughed, “Eds, I think you're the last person who wants to stay there. Even if it's your birthday. It's almost midnight.”

“Who told you that I want to be with you for the first few seconds of my seventeenth year, huh?”

Richie mimicked a heart attack and knelt down, and Eddie laughed. "Eddie, my love, how can you say such things!"

“I’m laughing, oh my god, get up!” Eddie giggles.

The boy got up and put his arm around the brunette's shoulders.

“No, but... Uh.. really... Is it good? That I'm here? We can go back if you…”

“Richie. It's perfect. Thank you,” interrupted Eddie, looking at his friend's eyes behind his glasses.

He smiled and straightened Richie's glasses on his nose. They both stared at each other for a few seconds. It was comfortable.

Eddie hated talking to people, hated silences, climbs of anguish, the impression that the room was narrowing; he felt stuck to the person, his hands too wet with sweat to wave his hand. But he liked talking to Richie. He liked the silences with Richie. With him, the room grew, he could breathe deeply, he could speak with ease, and he could finally live.

 

Their silences were created mutually, without knowing it. They wanted to admire themselves, memorize every detail.

“Let's go?” Eddie whispered softly, looking at Richie's lips.

Richie nodded, and they went on their way.

 

When they reached the quarry, it was still under the same comfortable silence, accompanied by a hissing sound from Richie. Their fingers were brushing against each other, and Eddie was getting anxious with every touch. It woke him up, crossed him and made his heart beat faster and stronger. He wondered if Richie felt the same way, and at that thought, he looked down at his shoes.

They sat down as they used to do, their feet dangling in the air, looking down at the dark water.

“What time is it?”

“Ten-to-twelve.”

Eddie whispered a barely audible “Okay”, and rubbed his hands together.

“What are you nervous about?”

“I'm not nervous…”

"Eds…”

“I ... I do not know…”

 

Richie moved his head to look at him, and it was like he had hit Eddie in the head. He looked at Richie's freckles, then looked up at the sky. Richie was like a constellation, something unique, complete, glittering. One can discover a constellation in another aspect by being interested in it, by looking at it from every angle. Like Richie.

“You know, Eds, it's a number like any other. You can do what you want, whether you are seventeen, or ten, or forty! Okay? You do not have to be seventeen to say what you want, to fight your mother, or to party. To love, or... I don’t know.”

Richie was just repeating that. That Eddie could do anything he wanted. But all that Eddie wanted to do, he wanted to do with Richie. He always wanted to be with him. With Richie... he just felt alive. Awake.

The brunette nodded calmly, still looking at the little map of the sky on the boy's nose and cheekbones. Richie lay down and Eddie joined him.

“Thank you,” Eddie whispered.

“No problem Eds.”

“Not that name for my birthday, please…”

“Oh, you love it when I call you like that.”

**Yes, I do.** "No," Eddie laughed softly, turning his head to look at the sky. He closed his eyes, and he could hear Richie's breath, less steady than usual, a little tense. Richie was very rarely tense. Eddie suddenly felt a warm, shaky hand land on his cheek. It moved to his nose, caressing her freckles.

“Are you okay?”

"Yeah..." said Eddie, with difficulty, in a breath.

 

The heat settled in his body and Eddie felt himself stealing heat from Richie’s body. When Richie caressed a place, it was as if he had been anaesthetized, he no longer felt his body at the place of touch in particular. He felt himself fly away.

Suddenly, Eddie's watch rang, and Richie removed his hand. Eddie opened his eyes and turned to look at the boy.

"Happy birthday, Eds," Richie whispered, looking at Eddie's lips.

“Thank you,” whispered the brunette, smiling softly.

 

The wind blew softly and lifted Richie's curls, and the trees played a sweet melody, their leaves rubbing with the rhythm of the breath of the wind.

Eddie saw things that night, during the first seconds of his seventeenth birthday, in that warm, sweet night. Eddie knew at that moment that he could do whatever he wanted. Not all at once.

 

But he was able to do it now.

 

He moved closer to Richie and leant his head on his shoulder, breathing in the smell of strawberry mixed with cheap tobacco. He felt fine fingers running through his hair; calming, soothing.

Eddie did not know it but right now they were flying together. The constellations held out their arms. Maybe they can be the most beautiful butterflies in the world after all.

 

He closed his eyes.

It was still a nice silence, so Eddie felt good. Everything was fine. Everything was going to be fine.

 


End file.
